Relationshipping
“When two objects, qualities, classes, or attributes, viewed together by the mind, are seen under some connexion, that connexion is called a relation.” (Augustus De Morgan)
We live.
We die.
From the moment of conception, the people who we will come to know in nine months are filled with every emotion the spectrum of human concern allows them to feel. We, as an innocent, unknowing, silly embryo, have already affected other humans in a deeply profound way. And, far more quickly than we make our triumphant, blood and vernix caseosa-covered entrance into the world of taxes, war and inconveniently placed dairy sections at the local grocery, this mystery called life happens. So it goes until we slip into death, and within nine more months of our individualized expiration date, strangers trod past our grassy grave sites or breathe in remnants of ash that once contained every molecule of DNA that made us everything we ever knew.
Each of us–and everything, really–lives or exists separately from everyone–and everything–else. The chair I am sitting in has an identical twin two feet away, but they have absolutely nothing in common except that they are both chairs which appear similar. On Addison Street in Chicago, cars whiz by on their way to Wrigley Field for a game, battling the traffic of locals making their getaway before the trains, tour buses and taxis begin spewing paraphernalia-encrusted anthropoids toward the field, turning the northbound platform of the Addison red line train into a viewing stage for the spectacle of drunken baseball fans creating their own circus below, sans elephants.
All of these people united for one cause: baseball. Fratboys and their maidens. Parents and their children. Singles, couples, more fratboys and their maidens. And yet besides baseball, these people probably have nothing in common with the person beside them on this day or any.
Hence, the mystery of relationships: what is this unseen, indefinable bond between people, between objects, between ideas and their creators? This bond that links two people together in commitment to each other on their marriage day for the rest of their entire lives? This bond which has the ability to both tear at the human heart and elevate it beyond ecstasy? This bond that makes friendships possible? This bond with the power to connect people together and separate them?
Growing up, my relationship to my sister was typical. We hated each other for no apparent reason, which gave way to name calling, hair pulling, teasing, telling and making unordinary circumstances into competitions, like trying to be the first to answer the telephone (we were too quick for our parents to ever win). And all of a sudden, as if overnight, and, again for no apparent reason, our relationship changed and now I consider her one of my closest friends.
Relationships, like emotions, are utterly intangible yet life-changing. Relationships and emotions, though unseen, remain some of the most powerful facets of life that we encounter on a daily basis. Unless, of course, there is no relationship, then things are relatively cut and dry. Take Sue and John, for example. Sue is a marketing professional from New York. John is a dairy farmer from Minnesota. Neither Sue nor John knows that the other person exists. No relationship here, folks.
Not knowing about the existence of someone—or something—is the only thing preventing the vital connection of a relationship from taking hold. When we are aware of someone else’s life, everything immediately changes, even if we have no interest in that person or their life.
Relationships move us to do things we perhaps would never do. We see two people, we know there’s a relationship there, but we can’t physically see the act of “relationshipping.” Magical neon test tubes and bunsen burners that chemically induce relationships do not appear over the heads of two people who know each other.
I like sitting beneath trees. There’s something calming about it, as if every leaf was massaging your back and lulling you to sleep. Trees are maternal, nurturing, giving and yielding of their fruit. Their limbs can cradle you, much like a mother’s arms enwraps her newborn. And, at the same time, trees are strong, immovable and resolute. I get the same feeling sitting beneath a tree as I do when I’m in the company of my mother: complete and total protection and love. On particular days when the sun is warm but not too hot, and the air is cool but not too cold, the warmth of the sun’s rays mixes with the shady coolness, falling on your clothes and your bare skin, and for a few minutes, life is perfect. And as silly as it sounds, my relationship with that tree is as fulfilling as any relationship I could ever wish for. Mary Katherine Gallagher in the movie “Superstar” takes this a bit too far, but to each their own.
Relationships just happen. Instantaneously. They take time to develop, but their conception is immediate–sometimes overnight even, and not many things in life tend to happen overnight. Of course, there is a big difference between having a relationship with another person, and being in a relationship with another person. Two people who hate each other already have a relationship. They know the other person exists—that’s all a relationship takes. Same goes for two people who love each other. At least, here, feelings are a bit lighter and happier and more hopeful. But even for the two lovers, they could not possibly be in a relationship without having one first. Of course there are extremes. In 1539 King Henry VIII already had a marriage treaty arranged with Anne of Cleves before meeting her in person. He’d seen a portrait of her, what else could he possible want? Thus, long before they were in a relationship, they had a relationship. Though, arguably, once they were wed, neither was attracted to the other, least the King to Anne, so there wasn’t much of any relationship left anyway. Interestingly, they decided they might as well live as family, and Anne was sent off, now, apparently, the king’s sister. Interesting twist.
Are we destined to meet people? Or does it just happen by chance? Relationships happen either way, whatever the explanation is. We come very close everyday to meeting others we may never know. It’s extraordinary to think about, degrees of separation. Remember Sue and John? John met a lovely friend of his cousin Betty. This friend of Betty’s needed to be shown around town for the week while visiting. Her name was Lisa, and just that same week, Betty was called away to Dallas for an unexpected meeting. Lisa stayed with John, which, frankly, neither of them minded and both of them embraced, first emotionally then physically, then physically over and over again and one thing led to another. They fucked until the cows came home, which didn’t take long because John lived on a dairy farm. As it turned out, Lisa and Sue (our professional friend from New York) had a relationship of their own: they were sisters. So close and yet so far–John and Sue still did not know about the other. And thus, still no relationship here. As for John and Lisa, they had a grand time and Lisa, one morning while visiting John a few months later, decided not to return home and the two were wed the following May in the shade of a tree on a day that was neither too warm, nor too cold.
But how powerful relationships are! Imagine the plight of wanting to be in a relationship with two people at the same time. Your mind feeling like pulled pork…let’s skip this paragraph.
I told my partner today at the gym that I was writing this with absolutely no direction other than letting my stream of consciousness be my guide. He urged me simply to write, which I owe a great deal of gratitude for, because I would have no doubt stopped, exasperated, after paragraph two if it weren’t for hearing a word of encouragement. But I digress. I explained to my partner how one can only be in a relationship after realizing the existence of another individual. He questioned this and said that he knows the people of Africa are indeed there, living in Africa, and therefore, wouldn’t he have a relationship to them? I said “you may think you do, but you don’t.” Upon further reflection, I stand my ground. Once one has become aware of the existence of particular individuals, one has a relationship to them, but one cannot have a relationship with an entire continent of individuals. Now, if this were humanly possible, then his point would be a very valid one. But, as no one human can personally meet and greet every single person in Africa in one’s lifetime, we must stand by the fact that one cannot have a relationship with entire civilizations or masses of people, even though we are aware, remotely, of their existence.
There once was a madame and a sir. The sir was a sir. The madame was a madame’s madame. Worn but beautiful, perky but real, her spirit was as free flowing as the reddish brown hair that cascaded from brow to shoulders. He liked the way her jewelry always made her look younger and more vibrant, the way it jingled when she walked like a breeze lightly tickling a crystal chandelier. (Bohemian crystal, of course). Nothing sparkled more, nothing except his violent passion for cocaine and the rush it gave him when they had sex in room 560, the one beyond the potted plant with the cigarette butts still jammed into the soil where she left them every week for the past eight months. It was a nonsmoking floor.
She loved him from head to toe. She knew every hair on his body. Her soul needed to be loved but had, with time, grown immune to the idea of authentic feeling. He brought love back into her life. She had to love other men. She had to love another man in three hours. But right now, in room 560, her love was going to be real. She knew his soul was lost. But she was finding out she loved him. It disturbed her at first, and the idea of waking up in the morning in a room she felt comfortable enough to pray in frightened her.
He overdosed that night, and in his excitement to love her, his body firmly pressed against hers, he managed to say “thank you, Jeanne.” She blinked and kissed his forehead. His thoughts went away and his body, in two silent spasms, slipped him away from consciousness and she prayed in room 560 for the first time and wasn’t afraid any longer.
Relationships can end in tragedy. They say nothing is worse than losing a loved one. When I was young I used to visit a neighbor. She lived alone in a house with an above-ground pool and a deck with colorful inflatable tubes and foam noodles that were fun to hit people on the head with when they’re weren’t looking. Elaine street boasted two houses, and hers was the first one. There was a small hill that began the street and descended, along with the lawns on either side, in a perfect downward swell, as if the ocean once rolled underneath the land and in the wake of a wave, froze forever.
I called, asked if it was a good time to visit, and she invariably said yes, although she always said to call first. Perhaps this was her cue to prepare a snack and homemade iced tea. I’ve since forgotten her name, which I’m ashamed of, so for our sake, we’ll call her Mrs. P.
Mrs. P. told me stories. I knew she didn’t have much family. I wasn’t allowed to feel sorry for her because she would not have tolerated my pity for a second. She was perfectly content. But it wasn’t always that way. One day, she started telling me about her daughter. I didn’t know she had a daughter. Back when there were no school busses and all the children in town simply walked to and from school each day, parents came to know exactly when their children would be returning home. Sometimes this varied for the children who lived farther away from the school than most others, such as on the outskirts of town like Elaine Street. Life was perfectly normal until her daughter went to school and didn’t return home. Nestled in the sleepy Connecticut countryside, our town has two large waterfalls. The first one, draining from Ashland Pond behind where the old mill once stood, speeds up the water flow through the channel which makes its way, mostly hidden, through town until it reaches Slater Street. On Slater Street, a half mile down from the entrance to the school, a second waterfall spills down into a basin next to the Slater Mill and rejoins the Shetucket River. Playing near the water with some classmates on this particular day after school, Mrs. P’s daughter fell in by the Slater Street waterfall which carried her away to paradise.
Mrs. P.’s life changed forever, of course. She never took anything for granted again. But she told me something beautiful about relationships that I’ll never forget. She said that every person we meet in this life is meant to be, and that God’s hand is in all of it. He puts people into our lives, and lets us borrow them. But in the end, we’re all His own, and when their time is up, He takes them back. Every friend, every family member, every person we have ever known and will come to know are special, beautiful, and shared with us for reasons we might never understand; but they are placed in our lives for a reason so that we might benefit, grow, learn and be enriched from having a relationship with them. Mrs. P. showed me a picture of her daughter that she keeps visible as a reminder that they will meet again.
Human interaction is not the only host of relationships. Relationships can even be found in mathematics. For example, “X is in love with Y who is secretly in an affair with Z.” Will Z find out about Y? How does Y feel when X finds out Z is in the picture? Is this fair to Z? Fortunately, emotions and feelings play no part in mathematics because they’d screw everything up. Unfortunately, because of this, I’ll always find mathematics excruciatingly wearisome. Let’s move on.
When it comes down to it, coming up with either a universal definition or a world view of why relationships work is impossible. Relationships are entirely nebulous, vague, and, like snowflakes, are never the same. We cannot define how relationships work, nor why they work. Common interests, family members, shared goals—these factors all contribute to allowing relationships to take root. But once a relationship has, in fact, taken root, how can we best explain it? It’s easy to determine the relationship of a wedded couple—they’re married. But it’s not so easy to explain the relationship between twenty one random people sitting in a coffee shop. If you–coffee shop guest number twenty two–enter and physically see everyone in the café, you now have a relationship with that person. However, those who do not see you do not have a relationship with you. This brings up an interesting point: the fact that you can have a relationship with someone without them even knowing it. As an exaggeration of this point, let’s consider stalkers. Stalkers have relationships with their victims, often unbeknownst to those they’re stalking. Of course, witnessing the existence of someone in a coffee shop is by no means stalking. But the point remains: it is entirely possible to conceive a relationship with someone who you have never had contact with, and who do not know that you exist. This is intriguing! A relationship with a complete stranger…!
…Consider how many relationships begin in Wrigley Field on Addison Street every game day. Or on the train platform. Or in the coffee shop. At the gym, on the bus, in the park, and on the street. At school, on the plane, in church, in the pool, or underneath the trees. Life is filled with the witnessing and with the connections of others who you have the opportunity to meet and know. Talk to the lady next to you at the coffee shop. She’s sitting two feet away from you. Your chairs are the same. Her name is Sue. Her name is John. Lisa. King Henry. Anne. Mrs. P. Jeanne. Mom, Dad. X, Y, and Z. She says hello.
Matt Kelly
April 2008
